29 Forever
I've just turned 29. For the third time. Scully (another "May Baby") and I treated a bunch of friends to dinner. The invite (sent electronically, of course -- via IM and SMS) read something along these lines:
I don't know where "The Simple Life" analogy came from. Scully and I have never gone cross-country or milked cows. She doesn't own anything pink, and I can't stand "Dancing on the Ceiling".
Anyway, we had dinner at my favorite resto, where the waiters -- against my will, I tell you -- stabbed my cheesecake with a birthday candle and sang me a medley of birthday songs with a twist. (Think "Macarena" with my name and the word "birthday" crammed in there, somewhere. Scully escaped this humiliation as I was the one who called to reserve a table and had thoughtlessly mentioned that it was going to be a birthday dinner. Dumb, I know.) This embarrassing moment was, of course, archived for posterity -- thanks to those stupid nokia phones that boast continuous video recording.
We went bowling after dinner. Just to burn off the calories. (As if.) I played horribly. (As expected.) And as expected, Tom played beautifully and became the target of our collective hatred.
Low point: Bowled 49. And that's with some help from Russell. (It's already Friday and my ass still hurts.)
High point: Bliss's new beau, a.k.a the white man, commented that he thought I was only 24-years-old. Lovely.
(Belated) Milestone: Last April 30, Tom dropped off his and -- get this! -- my entry at the Palanca office. Of course I won't win -- and no, I'm not doing the old reverse psychology trick on fate. I'm just being very, very objective. My entry wasn't all that. But you're missing the point. It's the fact that I finally came through and produced an entry -- backing up early pronouncements of I'm-so-going-to-enter -- that makes the event unbelievable, incredible, even mystifying! It was a goal. And now there's a checkmark beside it. (Okay, so it would be nice to win. I could certainly use the cash. But what-ev.)
"Paris (Scully) and Nicole (Ophelia) will be having a VERY SIMPLE LIFE (i.e. "joint" because we're low on moo) birthday dinner at Italianni's on Friday, April 29, 7:30 pm. As an after dinner activity, we will skip across the street to Coronado for a spirited game of bowling (on us!). So bring your appetites to GB2 and don't forget to wear socks!"
I don't know where "The Simple Life" analogy came from. Scully and I have never gone cross-country or milked cows. She doesn't own anything pink, and I can't stand "Dancing on the Ceiling".
Anyway, we had dinner at my favorite resto, where the waiters -- against my will, I tell you -- stabbed my cheesecake with a birthday candle and sang me a medley of birthday songs with a twist. (Think "Macarena" with my name and the word "birthday" crammed in there, somewhere. Scully escaped this humiliation as I was the one who called to reserve a table and had thoughtlessly mentioned that it was going to be a birthday dinner. Dumb, I know.) This embarrassing moment was, of course, archived for posterity -- thanks to those stupid nokia phones that boast continuous video recording.
We went bowling after dinner. Just to burn off the calories. (As if.) I played horribly. (As expected.) And as expected, Tom played beautifully and became the target of our collective hatred.
Low point: Bowled 49. And that's with some help from Russell. (It's already Friday and my ass still hurts.)
High point: Bliss's new beau, a.k.a the white man, commented that he thought I was only 24-years-old. Lovely.
(Belated) Milestone: Last April 30, Tom dropped off his and -- get this! -- my entry at the Palanca office. Of course I won't win -- and no, I'm not doing the old reverse psychology trick on fate. I'm just being very, very objective. My entry wasn't all that. But you're missing the point. It's the fact that I finally came through and produced an entry -- backing up early pronouncements of I'm-so-going-to-enter -- that makes the event unbelievable, incredible, even mystifying! It was a goal. And now there's a checkmark beside it. (Okay, so it would be nice to win. I could certainly use the cash. But what-ev.)
Ophelia came up for air at 5:33 PM
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